“Come boys,” said I, “no more of this quarrelling; you are none of you very far wrong, for the jackal partakes of the nature of all three, dog, wolf and fox.”
The monkey had come out on Jack's shoulder, but no sooner did it catch sight of the jackal, than it fled precipitately back into the tent, and hid itself in a heap of moss until nothing was visible but the tip of its little nose. Jack soothed and comforted the frightened little animal, and I then summoned them all to prayers, soon after which we began our breakfast. So severely had we dealt with our supper the previous night, that we had little to eat but the biscuits, which were so dry and hard, that, hungry as we were, we could not swallow much. Fritz and I took some cheese to help them down, while my wife and younger sons soaked theirs in water. Ernest roamed down to the shore, and looked about for shell-fish. Presently he returned with a few whelks. “Ah,” said he, “if we had but some butter.” “My good boy,” I replied, “your perpetual IF, IF, quite annoys me; why do you not sit down and eat cheese like the rest of us?” “Not while I can get butter,” he said; “see here, father,” and he pointed to a large cask, “that barrel contains butter of some sort or another, for it is oozing out at the end.”
“Really, Ernest,” I said, “we are indebted to you. I will open the cask.” So saying, I took a knife and carefully cut a small hole, so that I could extract the butter without exposing the mass of it to the effects of the air and heat. Filling a cocoa-nut shell, we once more sat down, and toasting our biscuits before the fire, spread them with the good Dutch butter. We found this vastly better than the dry biscuit, and while we were thus employed, I noticed that the two dogs were lying unusually quiet by my side. I at first attributed this drowsiness to their large meal during the night, but I soon discovered that it arose from a different cause; the faithful animals had not escaped unhurt from their late combat, but had received several deep and painful wounds,
